


Another Night

by day_dreamer016



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Double Anal Penetration, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, M/M, Other, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/day_dreamer016/pseuds/day_dreamer016
Summary: Arthur didn't get the sleep he needed. So instead, he goes to Dutch's tent to retrieve his hat only to get dragged into something else.





	Another Night

Crickets chirped ever-so-silently in the darkness. There was the crackling of the fire off in the distance. It was slightly chillier than other nights and Arthur could feel goosebumps for on his skin. Dark colored hairs stood to attention at the nipping cold. Eventually, the stocky man’s teeth even began to chatter quite annoyingly. And no matter how many times Arthur tried to find more heat, the thing he most yearned for in this moment, nothing would help. The blanket would ride up whenever he pulled it over his shoulder, causing his toes to peek out from beneath the cover. It had the man rolling in bed and making irritable noises for hours. Clearly, sleep was not going to come easy tonight.

Now daylight wasn’t far from them. Arthur knew that it wouldn’t be long before everyone would be up and bustling along. But now, the man lay awake, staring at the roof of his tent as he practically froze to death. After nearly hours of laying there like that, though, Arthur finally sat up with an aggravated sigh. He stood to his feet, wobbly due to lack of sleep. For a couple minutes, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and adjusted to the night’s shadow. Then he began to get dressed properly for the day, dressing in his usual Maya blue button up and penny colored breeches. Yawning, Morgan then bent down to grab his boots and slide them on. Only it didn’t go as planned. The man had to catch himself on the side of his cot when he nearly fell over. But Arthur righted himself after a moment and took a deep inhale. After that, he finally got his shoes, suspenders, and coat on. The final touch was his hat, which was nowhere to be found. Normally it would be sitting upon the crate that was sat up next to his cot. But it wasn’t, and the ash-brown haired man only grunted when he realized where he had left it.

Dutch would still be asleep. That was obvious and something Arthur adopted. Used to, they would stay up late, Dutch and him. As the boss got older, though, the more he slept. Van Der Linde worked to the bone too,  _ earning _ his sleep before taking the action. So instead of going to Dutch’s tent directly, he doodled and did other things. Arthur didn’t want to disturb the other man just yet, so he stood by the poorly lit bonfire. His hands hovered over the flames, barely warming them before looking over at the biggest of the tents. From afar, it was easy to tell that Dutch’s lamp was still lit. Dim, but still shining. Which was odd, unless the old man was being visited. That thought alone had bubbles of jealously forming in the pit of Arthur’s stomach. Molly O’shea was a fine woman. She was good for Dutch and Arthur took a liking to her. However, Dutch likes to expand his claims. For a long while, Arthur thought that their flings were over and Molly would change the leader of the Van Der Linde Gang for good. Then John Marston was brought into things. Now Dutch practically owned the three of them, and Arthur didn’t mind that. At the same time, though, it ate him away.

His brows were furrowed now, out of anger or curiosity he didn’t know. All Arthur knew was that he now stood in front of Dutch’s tent. He could hear the rustling of bedsheets and the quiet whispers of deaf voices. The man’s hands clenched, and relaxed, then clenched again. This action went on for mere minutes before Arthur finally cleared his throat. Everything went silent. Even the camp seemed to lower to an almost muted volume. It made his stomach flip, made his stomach upset.

“Dutch?” Arthur asked in a hushed voice.

Silence.

Arthur cleared his throat again before continuing,” Dutch, I think I left my hat in there from our. . . uh, last talk---” Suddenly the tent opening was slid back. Marston’s scarred face poked out, making Arthur reel back slightly.

John then smirked at the other’s reaction. He let out a tired sounding scoff before finally opening the tent to Arthur, offering entry. Which confused the broader man at first. It took Dutch leaning into view from the other side of the make-shift-home and beckoning him in for Arthur to finally get over himself and take a step in. After he did so, he realized that the two raven-haired haired men were both topless. Arthur’s cheeks grew warm at that. His eyes wondered from John’s lightly dusted chest to Dutch's curly-haired pecs. It made the two other men laugh and Arthur just tense up and look at the ground.

“Cat got your tongue, Morgan?” John teased before closing the flap and taking a seat on Dutch’s cot. Which was unkempt from clear rough play.

Swallowing, Arthur wetted his lips slightly before finally looking around the tent. “I-I came to get my-my uh, hat.”

“Why do you need it?” inquired Dutch, who seemed to just now notice how Arthur was dressed head to toe. That made the older man raise a brow in slight confusion. “Why are you primmed and proper so damn early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Arthur answered quickly now.

“So you got dressed?” John mumbled past a cigarette in his mouth.

Arthur pouted slightly like a child, hating not only the attention on him but just the teasing in general. If it was just Dutch, things would be fine. But with John here and the possibility that he had interrupted them, it just added to those odd butterflies in his belly. “Shut up Marston,” the larger of the three men huffed. “I just want my hat--”

“This old thing?” Arthur looked over at Dutch again. This time the old man held the very accessory that he was looking for. Instantly Arthur’s expression lightened a little, and he perked up a little more. Instead of handing it over, however, Van Der Linde decided to plop the item on the top of his raven colored locks. “Come and get it.”

 

♘♞♘

 

The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon now. Arthur could tell from the way little bits of rays of light were trickling through the bullet holes and openings in the tent. His lungs stuttered as a breath caught in his throat. John looked down at him, huffing as a smirk made its way to his lips.

“Gettin’ to be too much for you, Arthur?” The younger of the two grunted as he bounced excitedly on Arthur’s throbbing cock. Which made him furrow his brows in annoyance before bucking his hips up as John was coming down. Thus burying himself balls deep in Marston and causing the scared up man to cover his mouth to hinder a loud moan.

It was then Arthur’s turn to chuff, ”Gettin’ to be too much for you, Marston?”

“Both of you hush!” Warned Dutch, now, as he finally took Arthur’s hat off the top of his head and smashed it into its owner’s face. Which actually made all three men laugh for a moment.

Then it became serious once more; skin slapping against skin, sweaty bodies mingling on an even sweatier cot. It was a surprise to Morgan---and it’s still a surprise---when the bed didn’t break under their weight. But John, against Abigail’s best wishes, was squatted over Arthur’s dick. Meanwhile, Dutch was behind them, bottoming out inside Arthur while he also three knuckles deep inside John’s ass. Stretching the man out to his limits they were. And right now there was just focused panting and whimpers. Moaning wasn’t loud or present, though, John would out a small mewl from time to time. At some point it had encouraged Arthur to take hold of the younger man’s feminine appearing waist, squeezing on the non-existing fat there.

John Marston always was a scrawny little thing of a boy. Made it all the easier to hold him down and give him a proper dicking. Though, for the longest time, that was Dutch’s and John’s thing. When the boy misbehaved, Arthur would watch Dutch drag John away and when they’d come back. . . well, John would always be bright pink in color and have little hickies and such on his body. Then there was a point that John and him were alone together on a small robbery mission. They had gotten drunk, as young cocky boys do, and things got hot and heavy. After that, there would be nights John would sneak away and spend nights in Arthur’s tent. Then Abigail happened and it got back to the old schedule of Dutch dragging John away to ‘teach him a lesson’. But here recently the two also seemed to get past their bickering, Arthur and John did. There are nights when the camp is together having a celebration or just a company night when the two will stand close together and just relish in the other’s warmth.

The thought made Morgan’s heart stutter and his face grow redder than it was. John and him, for a brief moment, caught eyes. John noticed how Arthur’s gaze softened, making his body shiver. The moment was ruined, however, when Dutch had seemingly hit both of the boys’ sweet spots. By a mere stroke of luck.

Now things were coming to an end; Marston sunk fully onto Arthur’s cock, splitting himself in half as his own cock twitched before spurting out its seed. Arthur felt his balls jump as he filled John up to the brim. Dutch could be heard chuckling quietly as he milked both of them. Then he leaned his forehead on John’s back and groaned himself as he blew his own load inside Arthur. Who grunted softly in response, eyes rolling into the back of his head momentarily. After all of that was over, though, Dutch had gotten cleaned up and allowed the two others to rest in his tent. John and Arthur couldn’t help but snicker whenever they overheard Dutch telling the rest of the gang that they were on separate outings for cash. There was a time Miss O’Shea had came in, but she just smiled at them and winked. She knew better than to say anything.

But as John and Arthur laid together, John curled up at Arthur’s side like old times, Arthur had his arm around the younger. His thumb rubbed circles into Marston’s hip, which seemed to relax him. Eventually, both of them fell asleep and Arthur gratefully got the rest he desperately needed.


End file.
